Читать книгу The Old Soldier's Story: Poems and Prose Sketches - Riley James Whitcomb - Страница 23

I grow so weary, someway, of all thing

That love and loving have vouchsafed to me,

Since now all dreamed-of sweets of ecstasy

Am I possessed of: The caress that clings —

The lips that mix with mine with murmurings

No language may interpret, and the free,

Unfettered brood of kisses, hungrily

Feasting in swarms on honeyed blossomings

Of passion's fullest flower – For yet I miss

The essence that alone makes love divine —

The subtle flavoring no tang of this

Weak wine of melody may here define: —

A something found and lost in the first kiss

A lover ever poured through lips of mine.